


Beyond Fraternizing

by qwartooty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, the two biggest and worst flirts in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwartooty/pseuds/qwartooty
Summary: Crowley found himself sitting on a bench and holding an ice cream cone. It was melting, because he was too busy staring at the angel beside him to even remember he had an ice cream cone in the first place.Aziraphale was sitting closer than usual despite the heat of the day, and he was putting on quite a show with all his licking and smacking. He even had the nerve to get some ice cream on his finger and suck it off absentmindedly, his finger leaving his mouth with a pop.(post episode 6 - In which Crowley attempts to improve his flirt-game, but he gets out-flirted by an angel instead.)





	Beyond Fraternizing

It was 1862. They were standing in St James Park, and Crowley had just sparked an argument with Aziraphale by asking for holy water.

“Do you know what trouble I’d be in if-” he glanced upward and lowered his voice- “if they knew I’d been fraternizing?”

Crowley clenched his teeth to keep his mouth from hanging open. Aziraphale continued his mini-rant, but his words were lost to Crowley, whose mind was filled with one word:

_Fraternizing._

“Fraternizing?” he all but growled, cutting Aziraphale off. Is that all he thought this was?

“Well, whatever you wish to call it,” Aziraphale snapped back.

 _Flirting!_ Crowley’s mind screamed. _I thought we were flirting very obviously this whole damn time!_

“I have lots of other people to ‘fraternize’ with, angel,” Crowley said, suddenly feeling very defensive. He’d been so sure the angel had known what they were doing - was he wrong? Had he been playing this game alone for the past 6000 years?

“Of course you do,” Aziraphale said sarcastically.

“I don’t need you,” Crowley lied.

“The feeling is mutual, obviously,” Aziraphale replied. He threw Crowley’s note into the pond and stormed off. _That_ was definitely not flirting, Crowley decided. He was sure their relationship was beyond fraternizing, though. He watched the note burn, and then he stared at the water’s surface long after the ashes had dispersed.

Crowley ran through all their previous instances of flirting he could think of. He had mastered slowing down his vocal pace seductively; he knew when to tease and when to lean in close; he called Aziraphale angel; he feigned disinterest fairly often; he raised an eyebrow whenever Aziraphale said something completely on-brand; they played footsie at all of Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants; they laughed sometimes; they flipped coins and shared work; Crowley always maintained close proximity, even when heaven and hell might be watching; he did a lot of winking - _god_ did he do a lot of winking, but he supposed his sunglasses ruined it; and of course he staged all those “chance” encounters and saved Aziraphale from being discorporated….

Holy hell, was he the only one flirting? Did Aziraphale not pull his foot away because he was the embodiment of Love and Goodness?

There was a simple way to clear up this matter, he decided. He was going to stop flirting. He would not initiate. He would instead wait to be flirted upon. He was going to prove that this wasn’t one-sided and that they both were, in fact, huge flirts.

Or at least that was the plan, until Aziraphale decided to play Undercover Spy.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked dumbly as Crowley hopped like an idiot along the isle of the church.

“Stopping you from getting into trouble,” Crowley said. No flirting, he reminded himself. One of the Nazis said his name and WOW were his feet burning.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale asked, commenting on the new addition to Crowley’s name.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley asked distractedly.

“No, no, I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it,” replied Aziraphale. Damn, Crowley had missed him.

When the church blew up, Aziraphale pulled off a miracle and saved them both, just as Crowley knew he would. But he also forgot to save his beloved books, just as Crowley knew he would. Crowley couldn’t help it, really. He saved the stupid books for him. That hardly counted as flirting.

“Lift home?” he offered, turning away from Aziraphale’s obnoxiously radiant face.

Aziraphale got in the passenger side of the car, clutching his bag full of literature and absolutely _smirking_ at Crowley. Angels shouldn’t be allowed to smirk. Smirking could be mistaken for flirting.

The next few decades passed like this. Aziraphale did things that could be read as flirting, but Crowley could never tell for sure. He was an actual angel, after all. Most of his actions were probably due to his well-meaning nature. He delivered holy water despite his previous objections, just to save Crowley’s corporeal form. He planted seeds of hope in Crowley’s heart with promises of one day going on a picnic, or dining at the Ritz, and then he refused Crowley’s offer for a ride.

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

Crowley tried not to flirt. Really, he did. But this was Aziraphale, damn it all. He couldn’t help but want to drive him around, get drunk with him, watch him savor human food slowly. Aziraphale was so in love with the world, and when the world began to end, Crowley threw his no-flirting rule to the wind. He started grinning at the angel again, pulling off miracles for him, and even going so far as to propose in various ways.

“Get in the car, angel.”

“We’re on our own side now.”

“Run away with me.”

The world didn’t end after all, and they went to the Ritz. Just like Aziraphale promised.

Aziraphale chewed a pastry with his eyes closed. Crowley watched the bob of his adams apple as he swallowed and decided it was time to change his approach. He was going to confirm once and for all if his flirtations were being returned. He was about to up the intensity. Maybe then Aziraphale would stop being so subtle, or maybe it would shock him into telling the truth.

The word _fraternize_ floated up from his subconscious. Crowley took a breath.

“You enjoy sweets too much, angel,” he said. Wait, that sounded normal. He tried again. “ _My_ angel,” he added quickly.

“Mm,” Aziraphale agreed. He opened his eyes and looked at Crowley. “Of course I enjoy sweets. They’re simply delectable.”

 _You’re delectable_ , Crowley thought. “I’ve never had sweets,” he said instead. The new nickname had no effect, apparently.

Aziraphale looked horrified. “Never had sweets?” he asked, his voice dipping in the middle incredulously. “Here,” he said hastily, gathering some flaky matter onto his fork and lifting it toward Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley straightened up in his chair. This was his moment to do a Big Flirt. He opened his mouth and did just a bit of miracle-magic to make his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, revealing his eyes. He stared hard at Aziraphale, hoping to maintain eye contact while eating seductively off the fork.

Aziraphale pulled the fork away, food still clinging to its prongs.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, tensing up and looking around. “Is someone here?”

“Wha...?” Crowley hadn’t moved, still leaning forward with his mouth open.

“That look of yours. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” He lowered his voice and asked, “Is it Adam?”

After a stunned moment, Crowley shut his mouth and slouched back in his chair, shoving his sunglasses back up his nose. “It’s not Adam.”

“Have they figured out our swap? Is someone coming after us?”

“No one’s going to bother us for a while. I was just looking at you.”

“But-”

“It was nothing, angel.”

“Well don’t startle me like that, then.”

“All I did was look at you.”

“You did more than that and you know it,” Aziraphale said sternly.

“You’re so thick-headed.”

“My head is normal.”

Crowley let out a noise of frustration and threw his head back. “Just eat your damn sweets.”

Someone at the table next to them cleared their throat. Crowley threw them a look that made them spill wine down their shirt. When he looked back across his own table, Aziraphale was watching him closely.

“What?” he asked irritably.

“Oh, nothing,” Aziraphale said, but looked a little smug.

“What are you suddenly so proud of?”

Aziraphale gave a short hum and lifted his fork toward Crowley instead of answering.

Crowley brought a hand between him and the pastry. “No, thanks. The moment’s over.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale replied. “Too bad. Sweets really are wonderful.” He sat back and ate the rest in silence, gazing off into the distance thoughtfully.

A few days later, Crowley found himself sitting on a bench and holding an ice cream cone. It was melting, because he was too busy staring at the angel beside him to even remember he had an ice cream cone in the first place.

Aziraphale was sitting closer than usual despite the heat of the day, and he was putting on quite a show with all his licking and smacking. He even had the nerve to get some ice cream on his finger and suck it off absentmindedly, his finger leaving his mouth with a pop.

Some ice cream from Crowley’s untouched cone slid off and splattered on his slacks. Crowley ripped his eyes away from the incredible scene beside him and blew away his own ice cream cone and surrounding mess. Aziraphale made a noise of protest.

“If you didn’t want it, I would’ve eaten it.”

“I can buy you another one,” Crowley said, his voice coming out a bit rough.

“Wasteful,” Aziraphale reprimanded. “One of these days I’ll get you to eat sweets.”

Crowley scowled. He shifted so their thighs were touching, and Aziraphale didn’t move away.

“Angel,” Crowley started. “I….”

Aziraphale waited for him to continue. A trail of melted ice cream was running down his wrist.

Crowley sighed and materialized a napkin, which he handed to him. “Watch your jacket.”

“Oh, thank you.”

About a week after the ice cream incident, Crowley was spread on Aziraphale’s couch in the small apartment behind the bookshop. Aziraphale had a tabletop fan running despite Crowley’s protests. Crowley personally liked the heat, but Aziraphale insisted air flow was “good for reading.”

Crowley was just trying to figure out how best to flirt in the current situation, when Aziraphale abruptly looked up from his book and said, “Do you mind taking off your sun cheaters for a moment?”

Crowley stared across the room at the angel sitting by the open window. “No one calls them that anymore, you know.”

“Please?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re indoors.”

“But I like wearing them indoors,” Crowley insisted.

“You can put them right back on,” Aziraphale assured him.

“Then what’s the point in taking them off?”

“Because I want to see your eyes for a moment.”

“Why?”

“Because I like looking at them.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale sighed, lifting his book back up.

Crowley was struck by a brilliant idea. “No, wait. I’ll take my sunglasses off if you take something off, too,” he said.

Aziraphale looked surprised, but seemed to consider it nonetheless. “I suppose that’s only fair. What should I take off? I don’t have anything particularly amazing to reveal.”

“Your… jacket.” Crowley said dumbly.

“Well alright, then. It is a little warm in here, anyway.” Aziraphale set aside his book and stood up to remove his jacket. Crowley internally slapped himself for being so stupid. He hadn’t expected Aziraphale to agree. He should’ve said his under-shirt. That would have forced him to take off multiple layers.

“There,” Aziraphale said, moving over to hang his white jacket on the rack beside the couch. He looked down at Crowley expectedly.

“You really shouldn’t be making deals with demons,” Crowley said. He took his sunglasses off and rolled his eyes at Aziraphale’s excited expression.

“Truly marvelous,” Aziraphale breathed.

“Alright, the exhibit’s closed for the night,” Crowley said, moving to put them back on.

“Wait! Can I try them on?”

“Absolutely not,” Crowley said. “You’ll get divine energy all over them.”

“Divine energy isn’t tangible. And besides, I think I’ve fallen out of divinity at this point.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, angel.”

“I’m not in the divine services anymore. And you’re not exactly evil after everything you’ve done.”

“That’s hurtful. I’m extremely evil. And I think you’re plenty divine.”

“How kind of you,” Aziraphale said. “But I will try on those glasses.”

Before Crowley could argue more, Aziraphale miracled the sunglasses into his own hands and pushed them onto his face.

“How do I look?” he asked over Crowley’s noise of protest.

“Stupid,” Crowley said without hesitation.

“Goodness, it’s dark,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s why they’re called shades, love.”

“Dear, can you even see me through these things?”

“Yes, I can always see you. They’re sunglasses, not blinders,” Crowley said, grabbing for them.

Aziraphale’s fingers intercepted Crowley’s, and they were all at once very much holding hands. Crowley stopped moving, and it dawned on him that they were flirting. Both of them.

“The ice cream,” he said, eyes going wide.

“What ice cream?” Aziraphale frowned, his own eyes unreadable behind the glasses.

“You-” Crowley was putting the pieces together. “That was on purpose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“I… have to go,” Crowley said, shaking his hands lose and striding with purpose out of the room.

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale called after him, the glasses vanishing from his face and materializing onto Crowley’s.

“Away.” Crowley retreated through the apartment and then through the bookshop, until he was out in the street and racing toward his parked car.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” Aziraphale called after him.

Crowley didn’t answer. He was panicked, and he wasn’t sure why. He slammed the driver’s side door and hit the gas. Half a block away, he cursed and hit the break, threw the car in reverse, and then stopped in front of the bookshop again. He rolled down the window. “Obviously we’re still on for tomorrow,” he answered Aziraphale, who was still standing on the steps. Then, he gunned it, narrowly missing a stroller, and disappeared into the tangle of London streets.

That had definitely been flirting. Did this mean it was mutual? How far back did it go? Crowley remembered Aziraphale kicking his leg under a table in ancient Rome. The angel had been protesting halfheartedly over some obscene joke Crowley had said about Oysters. Something squeezed in Crowley’s chest, and he honked the car horn until he wasn’t thinking about playing footsie anymore.

The next day came before he was ready. He rolled up to Aziraphale’s bookshop, his hair wild from pulling at it anxiously. Crowley decided to play it cool. He was super confident, definitely. He had spent 60 centuries flirting. And apparently 60 centuries being flirted _with_. He had loads of experience.

Aziraphale opened the passenger side door and got in.

“Hey, babe,” Crowley said, and then immediately wanted to discorporate.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied easily, carefully buckling up. The car hadn’t originally been built with seat-belts, but Aziraphale insisted on miracling them into existence any time he rode with Crowley.

Crowley blasted a recently-transformed Queen CD and opened the windows, but the car still felt too quiet and too small. Aziraphale gripped the door handle and yelled over the music and roar of the engine. “Is something wrong?”

“No, why would you say that?” Crowley yelled back.

They took a sharp turn and Aziraphale threw out a hand to clutch at Crowley’s arm. “Are you trying to discorporate us both?!”

“I always drive like this.”

“No, you most definitely don’t!”

They sped up a road that led out of London and into the country, headed for Tadfield. Aziraphale wanted to discreetly check up on Adam and the hell hound, just to be safe. The car started slowing down near a farmstead, despite Crowley pressing harder on the gas. The music was also significantly quieter than it was back in the city.

“That’s not fair,” Crowley said.

“It’s for your own good,” said Aziraphale. “And mine. Think about what would happen if either of us got discorporated. There’s no telling what they would do to us, after the stunts we pulled.”

“They might give us whatever we want. They’re scared of us now.”

“It’s best not to take chances,” Aziraphale said. “There’s nothing wrong with going slow. We have all the time in the world. We can do whatever we want, as long as we don’t take chances.”

Crowley glanced sideways at him, his eyebrows raised above his sunglasses. “As long as we don’t take chances?”

“Life-threatening chances, I mean,” Aziraphale quickly clarified. “We can take… other chances.”

Crowley smirked. “Other chances?” Aziraphale was fidgeting with his cuff links, which somehow put Crowley at ease. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, stop it,” Aziraphale snapped. “You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

Aziraphale gave him a reproachful look.

“You’re the one who said it first,” Crowley pointed out. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

They looked at each other for a minute, until Aziraphale realized Crowley wasn’t watching the road.

“Pay attention!” Aziraphale yelped.

Crowley swerved, narrowly missing an oncoming car. “I had it,” he lied.

“You almost hit them!”

“Stop distracting me, then.”

“I’m not trying to!”

“I know,” Crowley blurted. He took a deep breath, and then went for it. “Stop being so damn attractive all the time.”

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. “I- Well, I- That’s not something I can control!”

Crowley gave a short laugh. “I didn’t know angels were so conceited.”

“We’re not! Demons are conceited. Just look at your hair,” Aziraphale pointed at him.

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing- that’s what I’m saying. It’s perfectly tousled. How long did you spend on that?”

“Conceited _and_ a flirt,” Crowley mused.

“I am not flirting. Just commenting on your appearance.”

“Commenting on how attractive I am, you mean.” The demon was on a roll now. There was something about being in a moving car that made everything easier. Better. Exciting.

“Pull over for a second,” Aziraphale said. 

“What? No.” Crowley didn’t want this to end. If they slowed down, they might lose progress. It could be awkward.

“Please?”

“No. We’re almost to Tadfield, anyway.”

Aziraphale hesitated for a beat, and then said, “If you must know, I want to touch you, and I can’t do that while you’re--”

Crowley slammed on the brakes.

“Good heavens!” Aziraphale exclaimed as the car lurched to a halt in the middle of the road. “Crowley!”

“You want to _what?_ ” Crowley’s sunglasses had slid down to the tip of his nose, and his eyes flashed. “You’re supposed to be an angel!”

“You’re lucky there was no one behind us,” Aziraphale said, twisting around in his seat to look at the wheat fields and empty road.

“ _I’m_ lucky?! _You’re_ lucky I didn’t explode the car with my mind,” Crowley waved his hands around. “You can’t just say something like that while someone is operating a motor vehicle!”

“Well I wanted you to pull over and you weren’t listening to me,” Aziraphale huffed.

“So it was a lie to get me to stop?”

“What was?”

Crowley was at his wit's end. “The- the touching!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale fiddled with his hands. “Well, no, that part's true. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and-- What in the lord's name are you doing?”

Crowley had willed Aziraphale’s seat to a reclining position and was scrambling out of his own seat. “What do you think I’m doing?” he retorted, accidentally bumping the horn with his hip.

“I honestly have no idea,” Aziraphale said truthfully.

“I’m going to touch you,” Crowley said matter-of-factly. “Or does that mean something different to angels?”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley’s knees hit the passenger seat as Arizaphale disappeared. He reappeared in the back seat, looking rather ruffled and apologetic. “Hands, Crowley. I meant I wanted to try holding hands again. Also, we should probably get out of the middle of the road.”

“The road?” Crowley repeated, dumbstruck.

“Yes, the road.”

Crowley looked around. “Yes, the road,” he said, and belatedly realized he was parroting. “Of course. In the middle of a crisis you’re worried about the road.”

Aziraphale looked insulted. “Not the road itself. Though paved roads like this are important- a marvelous product of ever-advancing human infrastructure- but I’m more worried about the people using the roads. And this is hardly a crisis.

“Hardly a crisis?” He was parroting again. “I just tried to jump an angel!”

“It was a simple miscommunication,” Aziraphale reassured him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Can we please-”

“Alright already with your bloody road,” Crowley grumbled, struggling back into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said gratefully.

Crowley put the car back in drive and took off. They were both quiet. Aziraphale watched the fields pass from the backseat window. Then, he asked, “Are we not pulling over?”

“Of course we’re not bloody pulling over,” Crowley said, jamming his finger on the play button of the CD player.

“Pity,” Aziraphale said.

“You’re brain is a pity,” Crowley muttered back.

Aziraphale gave him a disapproving look, but didn’t say anything else for the remainder of the car ride.

When they got to Tadfield, Adam and his friends were playing in the woods. Everything was fine. Anathema Device had moved into the cottage permanently, and was no longer letting prophecies rule her life. She politely offered them tea, though it was hard to tell if she actually wanted them to stay. Crowley immediately declined. Aziraphale readily accepted. 

“The love still feels incredibly strong here, even though everything else is back to normal,” Aziraphale commented to Crowley, looking around in a vague sort of way. He was waiting for his tea to cool before drinking it. Crowley had already downed his and was itching to leave.

“What do you mean?” Anathema asked curiously.

“Some sort of divine oogly boogly,” Crowley said.

“It is not oogly boogly. I can sense virtues,” the angel said, bristling slightly. “It feels like bursts of love in this town. Big bursts, and constant. Probably Adam’s doing from back when he had satanic power.”

“Is it like an aura?” Anathema asked. “Do the virtues you sense radiate from people?”

Crowley tensed. He had never thought of that as a possibility.

“It’s not at all like an aura,” Aziraphale said, “because I can read virtues attached to objects and places. Inanimate things don’t have auras, but they do have virtues that humans and animals place on them. The huge amount of love I feel here is radiating off of the area itself, not Adam.”

Crowley relaxed.

“But yes, I can sense it ‘radiating’ off people, too. Adam still probably radiates a feeling of love, but it would feel like a normal amount for a human being. And only when the objects or people he loves are around him.” He glanced sideways at Crowley. “I can sense virtues that radiate off celestial beings, too.”

Crowley went very still.

“Ah,” Anathema said, her eyes moving between them. “Even demons?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said in a way that made Crowley want to drown himself in holy water. “Some of the virtues are very… intense.”

“Wow, look at the time,” Crowley said. “We should really be going. Got plants to water, and all that.”

“But we just got here,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley was already standing up. “Great to see you again, Agatha.”

“Anathema,” she corrected.

“Come along, angel. Tick tock,” Crowley said, opening the front door. 

“Thank you so much for the tea, Miss Device,” Aziraphale said gratefully as he pushed his chair away from the table. “It was absolutely delicious. We will be sure to visit if we’re ever in the neighborhood.”

“Of course.” Anathema took his extended hand and shook it. Crowley’s car engine roared to life outside. “Is he always like this?” she asked.

Aziraphale gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes, well, I’m afraid he’s in the middle of a rather large emotional leap. We both are.”

“You seem to be holding up just fine,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Compared to whatever that is,” she added, gesturing outside.

Aziraphale’s bright expression crumbled a bit into something… else. “Do I? Oh, thank you. That means a lot, considering I’m actually quite a mess at the moment. I am doing my best to make it fake.”

“Fake it ‘til you make it,” Anathema corrected him.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. Crowley honked the horn outside. “Yes, well. Thank you again. This has been lovely.”

He hurried out to the waiting car. Anathema closed the cottage door behind him, relieved her strange company was finally gone.

The car ride home was uneventful. They listened to Queen in silence for most of the trip, and when Crowley dropped Aziraphale off, he sped away before Aziraphale could invite him in for a drink.

Aziraphale expected Crowley to avoid him for a while, especially after his big reveal. But to his surprise, the demon showed up at the bookshop the following morning. His hair was even more disheveled than the previous day, which Aziraphale liked very much.

“For the record,” Crowley said, “Our relationship is way beyond fraternizing.”

“O… kay…” Aziraphale said, turning the sign to ‘closed’ as the demon pushed past him.

Crowley turned as soon as the door was shut and said, “Give me your hand.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms. “Only if you take off your spectacles.”

“No one calls them that anymore, you know.”

“Crowley.”

“Angel.”

“Please? I do love your eyes.”

“If I take off my sunglasses and hold your hand, that’s me doing two things you want, and you doing zero things I want.”

"I could take off my jacket," Aziraphale offered, but Crowley made a face at that. “You don’t want to try holding hands again?”

“Ugh, fine,” Crowley said, removing his sunglasses.

“Marvelous,” Aziraphale beamed. He held his right hand out to Crowley.

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley snapped, grabbing it with his left hand. “Happy?”

“Very.”

Crowley looked down at their hands. Aziraphale was warm, and when he squeezed his fingers around Crowley’s, the demon’s chest did a squeeze of its own.

“We’re going to do more than just hold hands, right?” Crowley asked.

“Eventually.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s sunglasses with his free hand and put them on. “We have all the time in the world."

“Can you see me with those on?”

“No.”

“Can I tempt you to a quick kiss?”

“....Temptation accomplished.”

"Take the glasses off, then."

"No, I'd rather keep them on."

Crowley rolled his eyes, but he kissed him anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I can't get Good Omens out of my head and needed to write some fluff! 
> 
> P.S. I haven't written ANYTHING in over two years, so sorry if it's a bit clunky. Also feel free to come say hi on twitter (@qwartooty)!


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